Johann Wolfgang von Goethe is often dubbed the Shakespeare of German literature. Born in Frankfurt Germany on August 28, 1749, Goethe first demonstrated his interest in a writing career by writing plays for a puppet theater that had been a gift from his grandmother.

The son of a lawyer, Goethe also studied law at Leipzig University from 1765 through 1768. At the same time he also studied drawing. History has it that an unhappy love affair served as the creative muse behind Goethe's first play, The Lover's Caprice in 1767. Goethe practiced law in Frankfurt and Wetzlar before publishing his first novel in 1774, The Sorrows of Young Werther. Written in the form of a series of letters, the novel featured a hopelessly romantic young man, Werther, who commits suicide after his one brief moment of happiness with his beloved Charlotte.

The German poet, novelist, playwright, and philosopher's most famous work is the poetic drama, FAUST. Goethe spent most of his life on this famous two part work, beginning at the age of twenty-three but not finishing the second section until right before his death in 1832.

Goethe not only remained creative throughout his entire life, he also dabbled in the visual arts as well. Goethe would write a lengthy volume on the theory of color, a work he saw as one of his major accomplishments. In the book, Goethe sought to equate light, shade and color as parts of an emotional experience that made a distinct impression on the mind. He rejected a mathematical approach, making the theory of color and light a function of the eye and feelings.

Goethe died in Weimar on March 22, 1832.

The Beautiful Night

Now I leave this cottage lowly,

Where my love hath made her home,
And with silent footstep slowly

Through the darksome forest roam,
Luna breaks through oaks and bushes,

Zephyr hastes her steps to meet,
And the waving birch-tree blushes,

Scattering round her incense sweet.
Grateful are the cooling breezes

Of this beauteous summer night,
Here is felt the charm that pleases,

And that gives the soul delight.
Boundless is my joy; yet, Heaven,

Willingly I'd leave to thee
Thousand such nights, were one given

By my maiden loved to me!